I don't want to wait
by love-fool
Summary: After seeing her best friends fall in love, Miranda wonders if she'll ever fall in love. [On hiatus]
1. Love and Pink hair

[Disclaimer: I do not own Lizzie McGuire Paula Cole's "I don't want to wait" which this story is named after. I do however own any new characters that I've created. I also own Miranda's thoughts. I also don't own any quotes or songs that I mention.]

[A/N: Okay, this was originally going to be a song fic to another Paula Cole song, but I've changed it from the original idea I had. Anyway, this is set right at the beginning of ninth grade. Okay, enough of my rambling and on with the story!]

_"And I don't want to do what   
His father and his father and his father did   
I want to be here now"- Paula Cole's "I don't want to wait"_

The first day of school is the most important day of all along with the last day of school. On the first day of school you want to make a good first good impression on everyone while on the last day you watch the clock that hangs lazily on the wall with such great intensity that you start seeing things. I want to stand out this year from the various trendoids like Kate Sanders who rule the school with an iron fist.

"How was Mexico," you ask.

The most boring experience of my life. Don't get me wrong, it was nice seeing my family I haven't seen since I was about four, but after the happy reunion it got incredibly boring. And if that wasn't torture enough, there was no air conditioning. It was warmer inside than it was outside. Other than that it was better than being locked in a room with Kate Sanders for the whole summer. Now that would be cruel and unusual punishment.

I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are dusted with a smoky eye shadow and lightly lined with a dark liner. I have no foundation on because I'm lucky enough not to get acne. My lips are glossed with a reddish gloss. I think I look good.

I grab my black messenger bag that's adorned with various pins with phrases and bands. A patch with Strawberry Short Cake on it stands out with its light colors against the black color of the bag.

"Mija," my mother yells from the living room. "Do you want me to drive you in?"

"No," I sigh. "I want to take the bus."

"Okay," she says sadly. "Just don't be late! And remember your lunch money!"

"I won't," I respond to her.

I walk out of my dimly lit room and out into the living room where my dad is sitting on the couch reading the morning paper as he half listens to the noise. My mom is right beside him and his arm is wrapped over her shoulder as they snuggle together on the couch. 

I walk out side to the front of my house to wait for the bus that will bring me to the hell hole I like to call school. I am going to get so lost today because I didn't even go to the orientation last week because I was still in Mexico.

The yellow school bus can be seen in the distance because of its bright yellow color. I once had a nail polish that was "school bus yellow". It's very odd how they have names like that for make-up. My favorite nail polish is "candy apple red". It's so vibrant and bright, yet again that might say a lot about me as a person.

The bus screeches to a halt in front of my house and I walk up bus stairs. The bus is pretty full, so I'm guessing I'm the last stop on the route. I walk towards the back to see if there are any empty seats. There's one seat with Parker in it and that's about it. I don't relish the fact that I am going to have to sit with Parker. She's a witch. She's a flower child version of Kate, except without the perfectly done hair, make-up, and nails and the curvy body frame.

"Can you move in," I ask as she's busy looking out the window with music blaring from her headphones.

"Huh," she looks at me. "Oh sure, I don't care."

She scoots over and takes off her headphones, "So, did you here the news?"

I roll my eyes, "Did you finally decide that short people are people too?"

She chuckles slightly, "I'm being serious. You of all people should have known that you're best friends hooked up over the class trip to Rome."

What?

It's not that I never expected them to find in love with each other, I just didn't think it would happen so soon. I thought it would happen if Lizzie was getting married to the wrong person and Gordo suddenly confessed his love for her.

I look at her, "You're joking. They would have told me."

She smiles deviously, "You probably don't trust _me of all people, but I swear I'm telling the truth. But don't come crying to me when they start ditching you and start acting like little love birds and look into each other's eyes like there's no tomorrow."_

She puts her headphones back on and looks out the window. Her eyes are fixated on the various cars that go by the yellow school bus as we approach the hell hole (AKA school). Upperclassmen pile out of their hot rod cars with their arms slung around their significant others. Parker follows behind me for some peculiar reason.

I don't think I'll ever doubt Parker again.

Right in front of my brown eyes are Lizzie and Gordo holding hands. Their fingers are interlaced and they smile at each other and look deeply into their eyes like there's no tomorrow.

Parker lays a hand on my shoulder, "What did I tell you?"

"Miranda," Lizzie squeals as she bounces over to me as she drags Gordo with her. Their fingers are still interlaced and Gordo looks as though he wants to let go from Lizzie's death grip. "How was Mexico?"

"Eh, it was alright," I shrug. "So, it seems as though you guys became an item."

"Yeah! Isn't it great? Gordo is the sweetest guy I know," Lizzie sighs. 

I feel like I'm going to throw up at the sight of Lizzie's perkiness. 

"Well," Gordo sighs. "What do you have first period?"  
  


I take out my schedule out of the side pocket of my plaid pants, "Uh, I have Earth Science with Fetcher."

Lizzie's perky smile turns into a slight frown, "Oh, that's too bad."

Gordo speaks up, "Yeah, we have Math with Best. I hear Fetcher is kind of odd. That's what Emily says."

Emily is Gordo's next door neighbor who's a year ahead of us. She's really kind of odd, yet she's nice at the same time. I only remember meeting her once because she spends a lot of time inside the house watching her brother because her parents aren't home a lot.

A girl with pink streaks in her hair walks by. She has on a black concert shirt and baggy denim jeans and what's considered skater shoes. Her eyes are brown like the hair wear the streaks aren't placed. The girl looks at my pants and stops in her tracks.

"Hey," she says. "Those are some sexy plaid pants you got on. Where'd you get them?"

"Uh, they were a gift from my friend," I shrug in confusion.

This girl seems to be older; it's probably because of her solid build and her substantial height difference. I can't tell if she's truly being nice or being sarcastic due to the fact that no one has ever called my pants "sexy" before.

"That's too bad, I'd like to get those pants," she smiles. "My name's Heather by the way. Are you guys freshman?"

We nod and she smiles, "I'm a sophomore. I absolutely hated my freshman year in high school. Yet again I'm just starting my sophomore year so I don't really have anything to compare it to. And you guys are…?"

I speak up, "I'm Miranda, this is Lizzie, and this is Gordo."

"Ah, an interesting nickname. I thought it was odd to like being called Heath because it kind of sounded masculine. If you need to know anything about teachers or crap like that just come to me, I don't care." 

Heather walks away and Lizzie watches her walk away. I can tell from the expression Lizzie's face that she was probably either freaked out by her or thinks she's an absolute nutcase.

"Talk about weird," Lizzie scoffs. "That girl called your pants 'sexy', god, she must be a freak."

Gordo cuts Lizzie off, "She's just being an individual. There's nothing wrong with that."

Lizzie brushes off the comment and sighs, "What period do you have lunch?"

I look at my crumpled up schedule once again, "Sixth."

"Gordo and I have it seventh," she says sadly. "C'mon Gordo, we got to get to homeroom."

And with that Lizzie drags Gordo into the building. I already feel like the third wheel and the day hasn't even technically begun. If this is any indicator on how my freshman year is going to be like then send me back to the eight grade. I don't want to be ignored because my best friends are going out. When I'm with them I'll feel as though I'm bothering them. 

Aw man, if Lizzie got a boyfriend, then is there hope for me? I mean, no guy really has shown lots of romantic interest in Lizzie and if they did, the sparks came to a cease soon after the relationship began.

Cody Pearson asked me out in eight grade, he moved though. Larry asked me out but he's liked almost every girl in the grade. I hope there's hope for me. That sounded really weird. Maybe there's a guy out there for me.

I just don't know. Yet again life is unpredictable and fun, so I'm sure it will be fun looking for someone to call my own.

[A/N: Was this absolutely horrible? Or was it good? Please tell me if I should continue!]


	2. Of Jealousy and Lies

_"He comes on with his big innocent farm boy routine, but I could see through that in a Peloponnesian minute."_-Meg from _Hercules_

The sheer ecstasy that comes from the first day of school quickly fades with the second day of school. Everyone wants to that the "it" backpack, shoes, shirt, pants, make-up, or skirts. They want to be the King Kong of the monkey house. Everyone struts around in their "first day outfits" so they can make an impression on _someone_. It doesn't matter who, but they need to be noticed.

I am not one of the people who strut around like little fashion models who have lost their runway. I am one of those people who sit alone at the Digital Bean because their best friends are together.

I only have two classes with them which are Art and English. We have assigned seats in English and I'm on the opposite side of the room next to this girl named Olivia Patterson who I remember from my French class last year, she always answered all of the questions right. It's probably because her mom is from France. 

Lizzie, Gordo, and I usually come to the Digital Bean for a little get together that celebrates that we survived the first day of school. I'm at the Digital Bean right now and guess where they are? They have "other plans". 

So, here I am sitting alone at the Digital Bean. Am I going to be alone for the rest of my life? Am I going to be one of those old ladies with lots of cats named after various old movie stars?

I'm more of a dog person though.

Here I am sitting in the corner of the Digital Bean trying to seclude myself from the happy couples who are busy playing tonsil hockey with each other. It's quite gross to be a spectator on this "hippie dippy love-in". The tapping of my raven black painted nails keeps me sane and distracted. 

Art class was simply a fiasco today. Lizzie and Gordo were being very couple-like during the class with their sweet smiles and other vomit inducing gestures. It was like I wasn't even there; I resorted to talking to Veruca. Correction: I resorted listening to Veruca's drama camp experience after the trip to Rome. Larry was also there and just nodded and smiled politely. Larry then asked me all of these obscure questions about Mexico. Some were, "What color is the dirt there?" or "Did you visit Tijuana?" or "Did you learn salsa dancing? Were you good at it? Will you teach me sometime?" 

It's great seeing my friends happy and in love, but you have to draw a line in the sand. I don't know, it's kind of like if you get a new brother or sister and your parents shower them with attention while you're just a mere spectator and sit back in the corner and watch you parents babble senselessly to the baby. It's quite embarrassing when your parents do it in public and get stared at by freaked out bystanders who look like they've seen a ghost. 

I remember going randomly into a pet store with Lizzie and Gordo while we were at the mall in seventh grade. There was this lady and her daughter that were looking at dogs and the lady was holding a Jack Russell puppy and kissing its belly and babbling senselessly to it as the daughter tried to conceal herself from her babbling mother. We laughed together at the mother and her embarrassed child. It was nice just being together and laughing before this whole romantic angle came into play. Now it's, "Oh, who was that? It's our _other_ best friend Miranda."

"What's eating you, sexy pants girl," I hear a voice come from behind me. It's Heather standing behind me.

"Oh, nothing," I lie. 

She sits down in a chair across from me and shakes her head, "Something is definitely wrong, you don't look as happy as you did this morning."

Heather seems to have gone out of her way to ask me what's wrong. After all, she's higher up on the food chain than I am and probably wouldn't be bothered with someone with such a low status on the food chain like me.

"Well, since you're not telling me anything, I'm just going split. But anytime you need to talk, just holler," she says as she gets up and walks away.

Why does everyone assume there's something wrong? Just because my friends have found love in each other and I'm a footnote doesn't mean I'm not happy for them.

Maybe I'm just overreacting, but I'm not used to not being in the spotlight. I guess I've always made it a point to stand out for my own insecure reasons. Yet again, Lizzie's more insecure than me. 

It's always been Lizzie, Gordo, and Miranda, now it's Lizzie and Gordo.

It's been the first time I've been home since June and everything has been thrown into my face. 

I'm just overreacting, yeah, that's it Sanchez. They'll still be there for you. 

I get up from my table and walk out of there. I try not to look at the happy couples and am trying to get out here. Now, I'm at a power walking pace. I'm now on the floor after running into someone.

"Ow," I say as I try to get up. I look up at the figure in front of me, it's Larry. Now I can get pity from Larry, this is just great.

"Hello down there," he says. "Need help?"

I get up, "No, I'm fine."

"Where are the two other amigos," he asks as he scans the place. "Are you in another fight again?"

"No."

"Are you okay? You don't seem like yourself," he says in a sympathetic tone.

"Why does everyone say that? I'm perfectly fine! See! I'm smiling! Smiling means I'm happy! See! I'm happy," I exclaim.

"Okay," he says in disbelief.

"I'm going to go now, so I can find Lizzie and Gordo," I lie.

I start to walk away but then I hear, "You're upset about being the third wheel. Everyone that knows you three can see it from a mile away."

I turn around and walk back towards Larry, "Listen! I am _happy for them! I always thought they would be great together! So if they're happy, them I'm happy! Now, I am going to be with my friends who are together and I'm __happy they're together!"_

I walk towards the Digital Bean doors. 

How can someone so odd see that I'm jealous of what Lizzie and Gordo have?

[A/N: Wow, I got six reviews in not even twenty four hours of posting this! Wow! Please review with your thoughts, thank you.]


	3. Heavyweights and Unwanted information

_"The results are in amigo. What's left to ponder?"_-Hansel from _Zoolander_

I walk down the twisting hallway to my homeroom. The walls are decorated with posters for the "Welcome to High School Dance!" exclusively for the freshman. Great, another way to torture me and make me feel inadequate.

Lizzie and Gordo are talking with Ethan Craft by the steps that lead to the second floor. He runs his fingers through his sandy blonde hair and smiles. Ethan Craft doesn't have that effect on me anymore. He's good looking, end of story.

"So," I hear a voice behind me. "You owe me twenty dollars."

I look behind me, Parker stands there smiling. 

"I don't owe you anything," I scoff.

"You doubted me. You hate me and you thought I was lying. The least you can do is give me an apology," she sighs.

"Fine, I'm sorry you hate short people and that you were right about my best friends falling in love."

She puts a strand of brown hair behind her shoulder and rolls her eyes at me. She seems to do that a lot.

She smiles, "Doesn't it make you feel better?"

"No, especially with this dance coming up. I'm going to be a wallflower."

She smiles again, "You'll be a very brightly colored wallflower." 

"So, you going to the dance Parker," I ask sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes, "I'd rather watch Ben Stiller do exercises in spandex, like in _Heavyweights_."

Reason #145 that proves Parker is weird: She'd rather see Ben Stiller in spandex and with a repulsive shag in _Heavyweights, then go to a dance. _

Yet again, she was probably telling the truth.

"I'm sure you would, Parker," I smile. 

"I was being sarcastic," she snaps. "I _am going to the dance! And I _have_ a date, unlike you. I have a date with my VCR and television and a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, created by the best men in the world."_

Reason #146 that proves Parker is weird: She thinks Ben and Jerry are the best men in the world. It's clearly been proven that Heath Ledger and Brad Pitt are the best men in the world. Damn you, Jennifer Aniston.

With that, she walks off and I head in the opposite direction towards homeroom.

Amazingly, I haven't gotten lost in the school, yet again it is shaped like a square and I'm not dumb enough to get lost in a square building. That's a bonus! That is a great bonus! 

My homeroom can be described in one word and that word is "dead". No one talks. They just sit there like mindless zombies staring into a vast field of nothingness. So, me being the loud person I am can either be a mindless zombie or be the mindless idiot who tries to talk to the mindless zombies, decisions…decisions.

So, I resort to being a mindless zombie, a mindless zombie who reads the latest issue of _Seventeen_ and knows it backwards and forwards. I can recite the seventeen ways to make sure your guy is "Mr. Right". I can also tell you wear to buy the seventeen hot make-up items of the month.

The PA screeches, "Good morning students! I hope you all survived the first day of school and can survive your second day of school. I hope you freshman are ready for the dance on Friday and remember to dress nicely to impress all of those guys and girls out there, but don't dress revealing because this _isn't_ some hot night club. This is a school dance, not a love shack. Moving on…we have an announcement from our drama department."

Great, just another reminder not to try out for the school play or to fall for some guy in drama club, maybe they should just stick brightly colored post-it notes on my head so I won't forget.

"Hello everyone, this is Mrs. Cooper. Some of you juniors may have me for Drama and Literature. Anyway, try outs for this years musical are on September twenty first. Be sure to get your permission forms signed by your parents in by September eighteenth. This year's musical is _Annie Get Your Gun. I hope we do better than last year's _Fiddler on the Roof_."_

_Annie Get Your Gun?_ That shouldn't even be allowed! The title promotes violence and sounds incredibly lame. I bet Mr. Escobar could even think of something more exciting than that, yet again it would probably be utterly humiliating to everyone involved. It would be more exciting though.

~~~

Its lunchtime and fortunately you can eat in the library while doing research because I would rather chew my arms off then sit with Kate Sanders and the future idiots of America.

I bite my carrot stick as I turned the page of a magazine that I had randomly picked out from the shelf.

"So, are you trying out or are afraid there will be a repeat of seventh grade," Parker asks as she sits at the table next to mine.

"Excuse me, but me humiliating myself in seventh grade is less embarrassing than your Ben Stiller in spandex while _gliding back and forth while sporting a shag fetish?" I snicker while Parker's face turns red._

She snaps, "It's not _my_ fault that they made him wore the spandex!"

"Parker, maybe he likes the spandex because you like to see him in the spandex."

"Ew! You're such a pervert Miranda! The guy is like almost forty for god sake! This is a library…not a place to talk about men in spandex," she mimics this morning's announcements.  "Besides, how did you know about the gliding part? How did you know that he wears the spandex? Did you watch it?"

"What is this? Twenty questions," I burst out. Parker just likes to poke holes that she's already created. Poke! Poke! Poke!

She rolls her eyes, "That was three. Can't you keep count Sanchez? That was four. Just answer this, have you seen _Heavyweights before?"_

I have, many times in fact. My little sister, Nina, whose 11 years old loves to watch it because she thinks Kenan Thompson, is cute in it. She watches it every weekend after watching _Good Burger_, of course.

"Yeah," I sigh. 

"Cool," she says. "Anyway, are you trying out?"

Reason #147 that proves Parker is weird: She's asking me about trying out, which means she's trying out. 

"I'd rather watch myself in _Greasier than make another opportunity for myself to be humiliated, again," I sigh._

She smiles, "I am, if you want you can work backstage and tell me whether or not I'm screwing up."

Reason #148 that proves Parker is weird: she makes fun of me for humiliating myself, yet wants to save herself from the same fate.

She takes a carrot stick out of my Ziploc bag and starts to eat it, "So, are you going to the dance? We can enlist the help of Larry to help humiliate Kate Sanders. I'm sure someone who has such burning hate for her would love to humiliate her."

That would be fun…but no. Then she would point out to everyone about me not having a date and then she would get sent to the hospital and I would have to be severely punished.

"I think I'll pass."

"What about the play though," she asks curiously.

"I don't think so," I sigh. 

"Okay, the thing is that so many guys that have stage freight work backstage…if you catch my drift. Yet again, I might not be a reliable source, you might have to check out that one for yourself," she laughs.

"I don't like guys who are in drama."

"What about Tudgeman," she asks.

"Do not bring up Tudgeman," I snap. "Do not bring up anything that relates to Tudgeman! Do not bring up your little fetishes or anything because I have had it up to here with you! You've been annoyance to me ever since we first met in third grade."

She smiles and taps her turquoise nails on the table. She looks at me with her brown eyes and looks and starts to laugh. I have no clue what she's trying to do or why in the world she's laughing. Yet again I have one hundred and forty eight reasons that prove Parker's weird.

"You hate it when people are right and you're wrong. I know I do. So now you won't talk to me for being right? Yet again, you've always hate me. Just hear me out; I'm trying to help you."

Help me? Yeah right…Parker helps herself _annoy me. She probably lives to annoy me, since she doesn't have any other fulfilling activities._

With that I pick up my messenger bag and my lunch bag and start to walk out of the library.

"That just proves that I'm right," she yells.

I turn around, "Right about what?"

"About everything," she smiles

Reason #149 that proves Parker is weird: She always thinks she's right about everything.

I walk out of the library and I hear the bell ring. Thankfully I have no other chances for Parker to bug me during class, yet again between the utter annoyance that the kid next to me in History class gives me and Parker's confusing ramblings would make me be able to check myself into a mental hospital. I can be alone. Yet again I am already alone, so it wouldn't really matter.

Thank god for Lizzie and Gordo…when they're around and not being all romantic.

[A/N: Please review with your thoughts, thank you!]


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